


All in a Day's Work

by Angelise (angelise7)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Early Work, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal seeks medical care from Kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in a Day's Work

“My thumb hurts, Kid.”

Oh god, he’s using that voice again. The one that makes my knees feel as weak as a newborn colt. The one that’s warning me to give up on the notion of getting any sleep tonight.

“Did ya hear me, Kid?”

Damnation. I can’t believe that after all these years his voice can still affect me so strongly. And you can bet your bottom dollar that he knows it and plans to take full advantage of it. Closing the door to our room, I walk over to the window and force its warped frame open.

“Think of it as a badge of honor, Heyes, your reward for all that hard, honest labor you put in today.”

Since we unexpectedly lost our jobs at the saloon, we’ve been doing some carpentry work on the new hardware store being built. Both of us agreed to stick around for a few days and see if we can find out why Mrs. Cunningham fired us. I’ve got the notion that things aren’t exactly what they seem to be in this town called Wickenburg, and I refuse to leave until my curiosity’s been satisfied.

A familiar and well-loved whining distracts my thoughts.

“It reeeallyy does hurt, Kid.”

Now he’s sliding those eyes of his over at me. Gotta look somewhere else. If I don’t, I’m a goner for sure. Those eyes are as lethal a weapon as my gun. They’d make any grown man drop to his knees and swear off women for the remainder of his days.

“Maybe something’s broken, Heyes. You want me to see about getting the town’s doc up here to have a look at it?”

“It’s kinda late to be botherin’ the doc. Maybe you could look at it? Make sure it’s okay?”

Dammit. Made the mistake of looking. And it was definitely a mistake; the bastard is pouting. Just like Mrs. Cunningham’s young son.

That’s it. Think about Tommy. Think about tomorrow and how you’re gonna teach him the fine art throwing a rope. Think about anything except those lips and how good they taste and how good they feel sliding down my . . . .

“Kid, my thumb is still hurtin.’ Are you gonna come look at it?”

I can hear him moving around the room, stripping off his clothes. The creaking of the bed tells me he’s getting comfortable on that lumpy mattress, and I now know any further resistance on my part is pointless. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could keep my gaze above his waist, concentrate on his wicked smile and devilish eyes. Unfortunately, this outlaw of mine knows just what buttons to push. He sprawls across the bed, refusing to cover his nakedness, his legs spread wide, his hands playing with the thick bush of hair that points the way to his damn fine manhood. That pose, how it displays all his glory, makes me so hard I could finish nailing that store together **without** using a hammer.

“Kid.”

My name hits the air, carried on a sigh, and I silently pray for heavenly strength.

“Yeah? You need something, Heyes?”

“My thumb. Come make it better.”

Might as well admit defeat; I know when I’m licked. 

Unbuckling my gunbelt, I hang it over the chair that sits near my side of the bed. Don’t like having my guns too far away. Ignoring his pitiful whimpers, I slowly remove my clothes, making sure I torment him as much as he’s tormented me. With my thumbs hanging on the waistband of my longjohns, I drag them down just far enough to show the top of my rump before stopping and pretending to think.

“Maybe I should wash up? I’m pretty sure I’m not smelling too sweet after all that work I put in today.”

Fingers brush across the curve of my ass and I choke back a groan.

“You smell just fine, Kid. Just fine.”

Those fingers hook themselves inside my longjohns and tug them further down.

“Come on, Kid. Get yourself in bed. I need you . . .”

Those three words turn my world upside down every time he says them to me.

“. . . need you to look at my thumb.”

I can’t help but laugh. That bastard is really playing me tonight.

Shucking off the rest of my clothes, I crawl in beside him and capture his hand, taking my time as I examine the injured thumb. Intent on making him sweat just a little bit more, I bring his hand right up to my face, close enough for him to feel my breath sliding over it. Next, I rub a finger over his thumb, real slow and gentle-like. His breathing kinda hitches, the sound of it making my own get stuck somewhere between my gut and my throat.

“It don’t look too bad, Heyes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see how my teasing is affecting him. His hips are rising off the bed and his good hand is jerking on his shaft. Maybe now would be the perfect time to kick up the torture another notch.

Getting downright close to his thumb, I let it rest against my bottom lip, tasting it with the tip of my tongue. His groan is almost my ruination but somehow I find the strength to hang on ‘cause I’m not quite finished with him.

Without warning, I start licking his thumb, long lazy licks that cover every inch of it. I’ve never done anything crazy like this, never thought it would be something he’d like. But from the sounds he’s making and the way his hand is moving faster than a runaway coach, I’d say he likes it, likes it a lot.

Unfortunately, I, too, am liking it a little bit too much. My balls are getting that achin’ feeling, and I know I’m gonna let loose in just a matter of seconds. Time to lasso that stallion and bring him on home.

“I love you, Hannibal.”

With that said, I swallow his thumb and suck hard on it, imitating a skill I’ve perfected over the years, a skill I normally demonstrate on a place a little further down south of his hand. Seems it don’t matter that I’ve shifted my focus to another body part, damn sucking has the same effect on him and on me, the noise reminding us both of past moments where I have noisily feasted for hours on his tasty manhood.

Letting loose of his thumb, I take his hand and wrap his uninjured fingers around my sex, coaxing him to share the pleasure. Within minutes, my howl of completion joins his, and I’m sure everyone in the whole boarding house is wondering what the hell is going on. Covered in his and my jism, I tumble down upon him and somehow manage to wrestle free his hand and gently kiss his wounded thumb.

“There. It’s all better now.”

His damp, trembling fingers comb through my hair, tugging on my curls until my head is right where he wants it, tucked securely under his chin. I get as close as humanly possible, touching as much of his skin as I can. He’s my living blanket, and I can’t slip off to sleep until I’m wrapped around him, his arms and legs tangling with mine, surrounding me with their warmth.

Pressing a kiss to his chest, I close my eyes and concentrate on calming my heart so I can get some shut-eye. The morning will be here way too soon to suit me, and I need all the sleep I can get. Helping build that new hardware store is wearing me out, not quite used to lifting and toting all those heavy planks of wood. Besides, I don’t think I’d appreciate getting personal with its hardwood floor, seeing as I would meet it face to face if I dozed off while I was sitting on one of its roof rafters and fell. Yawning, I wiggle just a little bit closer and mutter my goodnight's. 

Not even a minute has passed when I hear him whisper my name.

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“If you hurt your thumb tomorrow, would it be okay if **I** kiss and make it all better?”

“I’d be much appreciative if ya did, Heyes. Much appreciative.”

“Good.”

His soft snores soon tickle my ear and, with a smile, I tilt my head and kiss his chin, making a mental note to have plenty of trouble with my hammer tomorrow. Can’t be disappointing him; it’d ruin everything.

Just as I’m about to fall asleep, another thought hits me.

Wonder what kind of doctorin’ he’d treat me to if I accidentally hit my . . . .

 

The end

[You can find me on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was a gift to a very good friend and author, agtant. We met on a now defunct mailing list years before there was Live Journal or Tumblr. 'G' encouraged me to investigate the Alias Smith and Jones fandom, and this story came as a result. She was a very talented author in her own right. On the mailing list she often shared snippets of a gay novel she unfortunately never completely uploaded. If you're interested, you can find her work here, [The Quicken Tree](http://writingonthewall.slashcity.net/~agtant/)


End file.
